


When Jack Daniels Is The Only Cure

by EpicCj



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Couch Cuddles, I'm Bad At Titles, Light Swearing, M/M, Robert is stubborn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 13:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EpicCj/pseuds/EpicCj
Summary: You haven't heard from Robert in a couple of weeks. You're beginning to get a little worried.





	When Jack Daniels Is The Only Cure

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little note, my Dadsona's name is Jackson Jones. But feel free to imagine him as your own Dadsona.

It's normal to not hear from Robert for extended periods of time. But this time has you a little more concerned. You tried texting him, but all your messages are left on read which made you come to the conclusion he was ignoring you. But you couldn’t figure out why. Amanda must have picked up exactly how distressed you were because she plopped herself next to you on the couch with the giant fuzzy blanket you got her for christmas and wrapped it around the both of you. 

She leaned her head onto your shoulder and you rested her your head on hers.  
“What’s the matter Daddio,” She asked. You sigh and shrug because you honestly don’t know at this point. The confusion from the whole Robert ordeal has you too tired and stressed recently, and you want answers just as much as your daughter does.

“Is it about Robert?” Amanda asks next. You groan in response. She shifts to look at you and nudges your shoulder.  
“Dad why don’t you just talk to him?”  
“I’ve tried!” You throw your hands up helplessly in defeat. “But he’s ignoring me.”  
“Then stop being the socially anxious mess you are and walk the five feet to his house to ask him in person.” You shoot your daughter a look.  
“You know I can’t do it.” Your gaze travels back to the television where toddlers are throwing cake at each other and screaming from the top of their lungs. You quickly realize this was quality programming.

“Come on Dad,” Amanda drawls. “The more you sit here and mope that your boyfriend’s avoiding you, the worse you’ll feel. And what kind of message is that sending to your young and impressionable daughter?”  
“He’s not my boyfriend.” You quickly correct. It’s Amanda’s turn to give you a look. You sigh again for what seems the tenth time that night.  
“Alright fine,” You agree to your own dismay. “I’ll go to his house and talk to him.”  
“Great!” Amanda exclaims. She jumps off the couch and faces you. “I’ll go get your shoes.”

“Wait what?” You quirk an eyebrow at your daughter’s already retreating form as she disappeared down the hallway and into your room. She comes back out with your going out jacket and old sneakers in hand.  
“Get up lazy bones! You have a job to do!” She starts to tug at you arms in an attempt to get you off the couch.  
“Amanda it’s two o’clock in the morning!” You tell her sternly. “I don’t even know if he’s up right now.” The two of you stare at each other, neither saying word because you both know that’s a lie. Robert is basically nocturnal.  
“Hand me my jacket.” 

On your way out the door you turn back to Amanda, already regretting your decision.  
“What if he doesn’t even answer the door?” You gnaw at your bottom lip. Amanda rolls her eyes.  
“Well Dad, you can either kick the door down and demand answers or come back here with a lighter heart knowing you tried.”  
“Panda, I’m not going to kick Robert’s door down-” Before you could finish, Amanda slams the door in your face.  
“Sorry Dad,” She calls from the other side. “I can’t hear you over my teenage rebellion and my lack of wanting to hear anymore excuses!” Turning to face Robert’s abode you hesitantly make your way over to it. Sometimes it sucks to have him live directly next door, seeing as it makes it more awkward and difficult to avoid him,especially times like this. 

You cross the connecting lawn and almost immediately find yourself on his porch. It’s not too late to turn back. You can live with Amanda thinking you’re a wimp for the rest of your life.... right? And maybe at some point and time you can forget about Robert and his ruggedly handsome looks. Or the way his eyes wrinkle at the sides when he smiles and it instantly melts your heart. Or how devoted he is to hawaiian pizza and hunting for the creatures that go bump in the night. Or how his experienced scarred and calloused hands could make just about anything out of wood while also being so gentle when holding you close to him where you can hear every beat of his heart. You love those damn hands.

You shake your head. This is no time to be mushy! You have a job to do! 

You knock on the door a few times and step backwards, doing your best to ignore the anxiety that’s beginning to creep up on you. But you stayed planted in place anyway. You’re not sure what possessed you to knock again but you immediately regretted it. He hasn’t answered the door yet. Fuck he probably saw you coming from the window and chose not to answer. He must hate you. You try to think about the last time you were with Robert. You were at Jim and Kim’s with him and Mary drinking as always. He seemed a bit on the snappy side but you had paid no attention to it at the time because he still laughed and joked with you and Mary. Did you say something in your drunken state that pissed him off? Knowing you you probably did! God you felt like an idiot.

Feeling yourself begin to spiral into the belly of the beast that was your nerves, you begin to make your hasty retreat to the safety of your own home. There’s no shame in fleeing when circumstances are this dire. You don’t make it off the last step of the porch before you hear the door open. You freeze immediately.  
“Jackson?” A strained and tired voice calls. You turn around slowly, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. Robert is standing in the doorway and he looks worn out. He’s wearing a plain white wife beater and baggy dark green flannel sweatpants that are both wrinkled and disheveled. His hair is tousled like he’s been sleeping and his beard was more prominent than usual. Robert had deep bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Robert,” You breathe. You feel his gaze burning into you and you shift uncomfortably.  
“Do you need something?” He asks and leans against the doorframe. You open your mouth to say something but no words come out. You probably look like an idiot with your mouth opening and closing. You feel like an idiot. Robert sighs and moves away from the door, motioning you to come inside. You reluctantly do and are taken aback when you get a good look at his living room. One of the couches has been made up into what you assume to be a makeshift bed with only and pillow and blanket, the trash can from his room has been moved to sit next to the couch and it was filled with crumpled tissues. A tissue box was lying idly on it’s side on the coffee table, along with more crumpled tissues, a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels, and a glass with melted down ice inside.

You come back to reality when Robert sniffs loudly from behind you and makes his way back over to the couch and flops down. You watch as he takes a tissue from the box and blows his nose.  
“You’re sick.” Is what you manage to say. You internally punch yourself because no shit.  
“No shit.” Robert says, and tosses the used tissue in the trashcan. You hear a pitter patter from the kitchen and you see Betsy making her way to come greet you. She barks happily and jumps up in her own doggy way of saying ‘Hey pet me!’. You do of course because you love that dog as much as you love her owner who is currently refilling his glass and intently watching the tv.

You pick Betsy up and make your way to the other couch with her in hand, petting her absently. Your attention is more on Robert who seems to be rather invested in an Oxy-Clean commercial.  
“Robert,” You say. He hums in acknowledgement . You sigh and lean back into the cushions, Besty taking the advantage to lick your face. “If you’d responded to me when I texted you, I could have helped you or something. Could have brought you soup or...something.”  
“I haven’t responded ‘cause I was too tired, and I don’t need soup I’m fine.” Robert grunts. He drinks the rest of his whiskey down with one gulp and leans back into his pillow.  
“But you’re sick.” He turns to you with a scowl, well the best he can manage when he’s so exhausted.  
“I’m fine.” He insists with more force.

“Have you taken any medicine?” You ask. Robert snorts and points to the bottle.  
“That count?” He grins.  
“No it doesn’t.” You tell him, trying your best to keep the miffed tone out of your voice.  
“Oh well.” He waves dismissively. Besty jumps of your lap when she realizes she can’t get you to pay attention to her and scurries to Robert who picks her up immediately.  
“You can’t possibly expect to get any better like this do you?” You ask. You feel yourself getting angrier, but you put it on the back burner for now and try to stay calm.  
“How many times do I have to tell you Jack, I’m fine.”  
“No you’re not!” You raise your voice. “You’re fucking sick and you have been for God knows how long and you haven't even taken anything to try and get better!” Robert looks to you again with an unamused look on his face and sniffs.  
“It’s nothing serious just a head cold, calm down. Nothing like a little sleep can’t fix.” He replied.  
“Oh yeah? And how’s that working for you?” You scoff. Robert doesn’t reply. You get up from the couch and walk over to Robert’s and plant yourself on the floor.  
“Let me help you get better,” You tell him. “I’m your friend, I care about you man. I told you I’d be here for you when you needed me, so stop being a stubborn jackass and let me help.” Robert turns to you with an unreadable expression.  
“Fine,” He says, running a hand through his messy hair. “Do your worst.” You can’t help but grin.

You leave Robert’s house momentarily to go back to your place and grab some head cold medicine and a few pillows and blankets from your room. With a quick explanation to Amanda about how you’ll be a Robert’s for the night, you’re on your way again. When you get back, you make him take the correct dosage of the syrup while you fix the couch to be more comfy.  
“You don’t have any kind of pill version?” Robert asked you when you were pouring the sticky liquid into the little cup.  
“I can’t swallow pills without choking so no. You’ll live.” You tell him.  
“This shit is God awful!” He whimpered from the kitchen.  
“Just drink it!”

When he finished, he threw himself back onto the couch. The couch you put your blood sweat and tears into to make absolutely perfect. What an ass. You sat at the end of the couch and watched him flick through the tv channels in comfortable silence. When he finally settled on what seemed to be some old western movie, Robert pulled you to lay down next to him in sort of a lazy cuddle. When you looked up him, his lips ghosted over yours ever so gently. You felt heat rise to your cheeks.  
“I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was ignoring you.” Robert said. You realize he was apologizing.  
“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” You reassure. Robert kisses you fully this time and you feel yourself melting away. You kissed back eagerly, like the many time before you and Robert had casually made out with each other. You both are too preoccupied with each other to pay attention to the rest of the movie.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think down below! Or come visit me on tumblr @captain-cjay!


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